


Choices

by VivWiley



Category: Firefly
Genre: Episode: s01e08 Out of Gas, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivWiley/pseuds/VivWiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes all you can do is make your choice, pick a decision and pray to gods you're not even sure you believe in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

In medical school, one of the first things you learn is that it is all about choices - all treatment, all surgery is ultimately about choices. Do you operate or not? Do you treat with this drug, or another? What tests do you order? When and where do you cut? Each decision you make about a patient's treatment is a crossroads. In many cases, the decisions you make are irreversible. If you decide on this course of treatment, you eliminate the possibility of taking another path later.

You do not always have a lot of time to consider your decisions. In surgery, you work with your painstakingly learned, precise movements. You work carefully and as slowly as possible, but sometimes a patient's body reacts in unpredictable ways, sometimes there are nerves and arteries where there aren't supposed to be any, and you must move quickly, so quickly, relying on instinct and years of knowledge and no little amount of luck.

You work with the knowledge you have, the resources at the hand, and the puzzle in front of you, processing the data about anatomy and what a body needs and what is "normal" for a body and you pray. Because sometimes all you can do is make your choice, pick a decision and pray to gods you're not even sure you believe in.

 

The click and hum of the shuttle undocking jolted Simon out of the reverie he'd fallen into. Good gods it had turned out to be yet another miserable birthday. He laughed bitterly - and silently - to himself. And wasn't that just a tad self-absorbed? He certainly wasn't the only one in this predicament. On the other hand, his internal devil pointed out, you could certainly argue that any birthday that came with a high probability of dying counted as something that one was allowed to be at least a little self-absorbed about, right?

He glanced over at River, who was huddled into her blanket, staring out into that middle ground that seemed to hold all her worst nightmares. He wished, for the millionth time, that there was something he could say or do to reach her in that space. To really touch or comfort her. But even if he could reach her, he wasn't sure what he'd say. He had made one of the hardest and easiest decisions of his life and rescued her from that Academy, promising her that she would be okay, and his ability to make good that promise seemed further away with every passing day. And today....and today....

He thought again about her quiet warning, "Fire" just before the first fireball had blown down the corridor toward the mess. Would he ever get used to that? He knew now, with the marvelous benefit of hindsight, that she had never been talking about the candles on his birthday cake. She had known that the ship was about to be engulfed. Had seen it was about to happen, but didn't have the capacity to really warn them. If he had been able to interpret...he shook his head in quiet frustration. Another thing you learn in med school is that after you make a choice, particularly one that turns out to be a mistake, the only thing you can do is learn and move on. You can never undo those choices.

Wash called from the front, "Hey doc! What's happening with Zoe?" Simon looked down at the unconscious woman and then carefully felt for the pulse at her neck. "Her pulse is strong, Wash. And her breathing is easy. That's good news." He left unsaid that this prolonged unconsciousness was not particularly good. It wasn't yet bad, but a strong healthy woman like Zoe should have started stirring by now. Ah well, his evil inner voice continued, more oxygen for the rest of us.

He glanced toward the front, watching Wash's competent hands pressing buttons, laying in a course for gods knew where, adjusting dials and settings. He allowed himself to be grateful for a moment that Jayne hadn't been assigned to their shuttle and then dismissed the thought as unnecessarily petty. It seemed to be a day for petty thoughts.

And then, because there is really nothing to do in deep space, on a small shuttle running at the lowest possible lighting to preserve energy, he moved over to sit by River, settling an arm around her shoulder, and pulling her frail body close to share both the heat of their bodies and the small measure of comfort he thought this might bring her. He hummed quietly for a while, until he could no longer remember the melodies to any songs.

After a bit, Wash apparently finished doing whatever was needed to set the shuttle on its course, and came to sit by Zoe, holding her hand.

It was quiet for a long time.

River, with that odd childlike trust she sometimes still exhibited, shifted to put her head on his lap, and then fell asleep. He stroked her hair and tried desperately to keep himself awake. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him that he not fall asleep, but it was.

He found himself thinking of Mal's decision to stay with Serenity. On one level he understood the decision. He'd read ancient literature from Earth-that-was, and knew of the maritime tradition of a captain going down with his ship. He hadn't expected that sort of sentimentality from Mal, but then the man had surprised him on more than one occasion. He thought, too, that in some ways the captain was the most alone person he'd ever met in his life, and so perhaps, understanding that death was, in fact, the most probable outcome, maybe that was Mal's real choice - to die in the manner that suited him most.

Inevitably then he found himself thinking about his own choices and decisions. Choices that had led him to where he was here, today, on this anniversary of his birth. On what would probably be the last anniversary of that birth. If he were going to die, it seemed to him that he should be allowed the luxury of a few "what ifs?" Something he almost never allowed himself these days. What if River hadn't been a genius? What if he hadn't realized that she needed to be rescued from the Academy? What if he hadn't been successful in that rescue attempt? What if he had picked a different ship than Serenity? What if they weren't picked up by anyone... What if....

He tried, and failed, not to think about what their deaths in the shuttle were likely to be like. He also failed not to think about the syringes of potassium cyanide he'd thrown in his med kit at the last moment.

A stirring and quiet cough broke his musings. He opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - to see Wash bending even closer to Zoe. He waited a moment to see what was really going on - reluctant to wake River. But seeing the slight movement in Zoe's legs, he realized this might be something signficant. He gently shifted away from River, repillowing her head with a cushion, and moved to quietly kneel by Wash and Zoe.

As was so often the case, the end of a coma was so much less dramatic than the beginning. Zoe opened her eyes, and Simon could instantly see that cool, sharp intelligence shining through even in the low lights of the cabin. Unlike most of his patients, she didn't try to move around or speak right away. She lay perfectly still, assessing what she knew before she spoke. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that she, much more than Mal, was the compleat soldier.

She swallowed once or twice, and her quiet "Where are we?" was almost lost in Wash's relieved, "Hey baby, you're back." Simon waited a beat, and then realized that Wash had lost his voice and was battling tears. He answered for them both. "We're in Serenity's shuttle."

Her gaze narrowed. "Why? What happened? Where's the Captain?" She started trying to sit up - wincing as she shifted.

Wash put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Simon tried not to notice the slight trembling in the pilot's fingers. "Just rest, honey. We're..." he visibly struggled with what to say.

Simon slid into doctor mode, placing a hand on Zoe's forehead, noting that her skin was still cool - no fever. "Do you remember what happened to you, Zoe?" Her gaze shifted to him. "There was a fireball." Her gaze sharpened, narrowed. "Is Kaylee okay? Where's the captain?" Again, she struggled to sit up.

"That's right - there was some kind of explosion and you were knocked out. Kaylee is fine - you saved her." He wondered why he felt like he was telling her something she already knew. "You've been unconscious for more than 5 hours now." He paused, glancing at Wash. "Serenity's life support system was also knocked out and the Captain sent us out in the shuttles since they still had functional heat and air."

He caught her glance around the cabin as her quick mind took in the information. Knew that she saw River. "The others?" He looked again at Wash who still seemed to be struggling with his composure. "Jayne, Kaylee and Shepherd Book are with Inara in her shuttle." He swallowed. "The Captain stayed with Serenity."

Unexpectedly, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "That stupid son of a bitch. Of course he did."

Wash started to explain, "We sent out a distress signal, Zo, we boosted it. He stayed so that if someone..."

She sat up with no warning - seemingly her strong normal self again in that single moment. "Well turn us around. We're going back." She swayed alarmingly, slumping against the wall, her momentary bust of energy disappearing as rapidly as it had appeared.

Wash's strangled, "Zoe..." cut sharply through the quiet of the cabin.

She closed her eyes, weariness evident in every line of her face, but continued in her low, clear voice. "Turn us around. I'm the senior officer here, and I'm telling you: turn around. We're going back for the Captain."

Wash rallied. "No, baby. This isn't your decision. Mal was specific. We had to do this - split the shuttles up to try to increase our chances for rescue. He insisted he would stay. He's going to call us back if...when someone answers the distress beacon. You know how he gets."

She breathed again, almost a huff of amusement. "Yes, I know how he gets." She opened her eyes, "And you, of all people, know how I get. Turn the damn shuttle around."

Despite being right there from the beginning of the conversation, Simon couldn't help but feel that he had blundered into an intensely private moment. He hated to so much as breathe, let alone speak, but he had to. "Zoe, you were badly banged up in that explosion. I had to restart your heart. You need to rest. There's nothing we can do for the Captain if we go back. The ship is dead..."

She tore her gaze away from Wash. "No, the ship isn't dead - that ship has more lives than you can count, and we don't leave our crew behind. You know that." She refocused on Wash. "We're going back. Turn the shuttle around, Honey."

Simon shivered a little - unclear if it was the silken threat in the 'honey' or the creeping cold of the shuttle's low-level atmosphere.

"Baby, we haven't gotten Serenity's signal to come back."

"I'm sorry, Wash, did I give the impression that we were having a discussion here? Turn around."

"Zoe - you've been hurt, please...Doc, please tell her she should just rest..."

Simon wanted no part of this tug of wills. He stuttered, "Uh, well, Zoe, he's..." trailing off as he realized that neither of them was listening to him at all. He rocked back on his heels and watched the silent tug of wills between husband and wife. Against his own better judgment he found he was strangely attracted to the idea of going back to Serenity. It made no sense, but it seemed like the right thing to do. On the other hand, he was keenly aware of his own lack of knowledge in this area - that he had no training on how to make these kinds of decisions.

After a moment, Wash dropped his eyes, and hunched his shoulders forward. "You're really going to make me do this?"

Zoe gave that faint twitch of her lips that Simon had labeled her private smile. But her tone was soft, not triumphant. "It's what we gotta do."

"Yeah - I guess it is." Wash climbed reluctantly to his feet and made his way back to the cockpit.

Simon helped Zoe as she gingerly lay back down. He made sure she was comfortable, and then moved back to the bench where River still slept. He wasn't entirely sure about this course of action - it narrowed their choices, not that there had been that that many of them to start with. But somewhere deep inside it felt right.

Beside him, River stirred in her sleep, "Air, sweet oxygen," she sighed. She smiled and turned over. Just dreams, or something else? For better or worse, they were turned back toward what he thought of as "home" - at least for now.

Maybe this was the right choice.

EN

**Author's Note:**

> For Angstville (who, as usual, I'm blaming).


End file.
